Fear
by LtTanyaBoone
Summary: "He doesn't notice the traffic signs. He just knows he has to get to the hospital, has to get to her, now." oneshot


_Title:_ Fear  
><em> Disclaimers:<em> NCIS, the rights to the show and its characters do not belong to me. No money was made by this.  
><em>AN:_ English is not my native language. So please forgive me my grammar and spelling mistakes.  
><em>Spoilers: <em>everything  
><em>Pairing:<em> McGee/Ziva [McGiva]  
><em>Summary: <em>He doesn't notice the traffic signs. He just knows he has to get to the hospital, has to get to her, _now_.

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><p>He doesn't notice the traffic signs. Has no idea what speed limit there is, and doesn't care if he's obeying it. He just knows he has to get to the hospital, has to get to her, <em>now<em>.

His heart is speeding away in his chest, his palms sweaty on the steering wheel. He keeps flashing to horrible car accidents they have worked in the past. Mangled bodies, broken glass, distorted metal, blood everywhere. And to think that just ten minutes ago, he was enjoying his life, not a worry in sight…

He parks his car somehow, kills the engine and he rushes into the ER, out of breath and dripping wet from the heavy rain, shaking with fear and anxiety. He takes a calming breath and makes his way to the reception area.

"Hi." he mutters, not getting the nurse's attention. Frustration suddenly wells up inside of him, matching the rising fear. Don't they know how much he cares, don't they know how important it is that they tell him, tell him now?

"Hello!" he almost yells and the woman nearly drops the chart she is holding and raises an eyebrow at him.

"Good evening." she greets him, putting away the chart. "How can I help you, Mr…"

"Special Agent McGee, NCIS." he tells her, showing his credentials and hoping, praying that it will get him answers faster, that they will actually do something! "I'm the emergency contact for Special Agent Ziva David, also NCIS?" he says, his fingers thrumming on the counter while the woman types the name into her computer.

"I'm sorry, Special Agent-"

"Z-I-V-A and Dah-veed like Day-vid." he interrupts her and she begins typing anew after a brief eye roll. He balls his fists to keep himself from punching her. "I was told she was in a car accident." he adds, hoping it may help her with her search for Ziva.

"Oh, yeah, the bike lady." the nurse suddenly remembers, and now it's McGee's turn to raise his eyebrows. "First door to the left. And tell her she needs to fill out those papers!" she tells him and then returns to the chart. Confused, he slowly makes his way to the exam room and takes a deep breath outside to prepare himself for what he may find. Slowly, he pushes the door open. A curtain is drawn around the bed and he clears his throat. What the nurse said indicates that Ziva is conscious, so he might as well warn her of his presence.

"I'm waiting!" his favorite Israeli's voice carries to him and he steps around the curtain, inhaling sharply at the sight in front of him.

Ziva is sitting on the bed, her feet dangling off it. Her hair is wet, dripping onto the sheets and floor. There is a huge band-aid a little on the left side of her forehead, and he can see the blood seeping through it. She has taken off her jacket and it's lying next to her, but judging from the way her left arm looks, the thing's sleeve must be shredded, anyway. Because there is no way the bruising and abrasions just formed below the layer of protective leather. On the plus side, her pants seem to be intact, and she is wearing a black shirt.

"Oh. Hi McGee. I thought it was the doctor." she smiled at him, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from her face and touching the bandage, which makes her wince.

"Hi McGee?" he asks, his voice incredulous. "_**HI MCGEE?**_" he shouts, and she frowns. "Do you have _**any **_idea what I just went through?" he asks her, raking his hands through his wet hair and starting to pace the small room. "I am sitting at home, trying to decide whether I should get some writing done or watch some TV, when the phone rings. _'Huh, pretty late, who could that be? Probably Gibbs, I hope we don't have a case, the weather is horrible.'_ Guess who it wasn't!"

Ziva flinches away from him slightly. "Gibbs?" she offers, her voice soft.

"_**No Gibbs!**_" he yells at her. "No, instead of a call-out, I get a call from Uni Hospital. If I know a Ziva David? My, that sounds strangely like a woman I work with. Well, she was in a car accident and I am listed as emergency contact, if I could come down?" he continues, halting in his steps to glare at her. "_**A car accident!**_ Ziva, what on _earth_ could have possibly possessed you to go riding that _damn bike_ in this _freaking thunderstorm_?"

She swallows thickly, looking away from him. He takes a deep breath, deflating slightly at the tears he sees burning in her eyes.

"It was nice out when I started." she mutters, wiping her cheek angrily. "I was surprised by the rain, and like, two miles from home, this idiot cut across my lane and I lost control and fell. Banged my head, the helmet protected me from worse; it's just a cut and concussion. They are waiting for the x-ray results for my arm, though, it's probably broken, least it hurts like a bitch. Shoulder, too." she tells him, avoiding his face and looking down at her arm that's resting across her lap.

"God, I was so worried." he breathes and quickly rushes over, taking her face in his hands and kissing her deeply. Their foreheads bump together and Ziva gives a hiss of pain, so he quickly lets go of her face again, carefully stroking the hair on the back of her head, just needing to be close. She's alive, thank God. Banged up and shaken, but alive.

"I'm really sorry, I would not have taken it for a spin if the weather report indicated anything like this." she sniffles, tilting her head in the direction of the window.

"If I ever get my hands on the asshat that cut across your lane…" Tim mutters, stroking her cheek gently, shudders of relief running through him

"His car slammed into a pole, he's in surgery now." a doctor walks in, putting up the x-ray pictures of Ziva's arm and shoulder. "Clean break. You'll get a nice cast, Miss David." he turns to her again, nodding towards Tim to acknowledge his presence.

"It's Dah-veed." Ziva corrects him automatically, attempting to roll her eyes and wincing at the discomfort. The doctor frowns at her and glances at the bedside table, picking up the small cup with two pills in it.

"Take them. Before you do, I'm not touching your arm or wounds." he tells her, and she throws back the pills with a dark glare. He then moves to her arm, cleaning the abrasions carefully, Ziva wincing and hissing at the burning of the peroxide on her skin. Tim grabs the form from the table and starts filling it out, glancing up when he hears his girlfriend hiss in pain as the doctor gets the cast on her arm. Once he is done, he moves to the cut on her forehead. By then, Tim is finished with filling out the form with what he knows and watches as the doctor peels the bandage away, Ziva scrunching up her face.

"We'll use a fine thread, but I fear that this will leave a scar. It's close to your hairline, though." he tries to comfort her and Ziva shrugs.

"Considering what I could have injured, my skin is pretty much the least of my worries." she admits, a small shudder running through her. He moves to stand behind her, rubbing his hand down her back. She flinches away from his touch, and he frowns slightly.

"Bruised spine. She's lucky she wore protective gear." the doctor tells him, carefully setting the stitches. "Ok, done now." the doctor declares after a while, putting a bandage over the wound and testing the reflexes of her pupils again. "I take it you haven't thrown up?" he asks her, and Ziva attempts to shake her head before realizing it's actually a really bad idea.

"No." she presses out through her clenched teeth, fighting a fresh wave of pain.

"Well, we can release you, if you have someone who can look after you for the next 48 hours and get you back here if anything pops up." he tells them, looking at Tim, who nods.

"I know what to look for." he tells the man, who takes of his gloves at last.

"Good. Release form will be ready at the reception in a few minutes, take your time." the doctor tells them before rushing from the room to help another patient.

"What about the bike?" Tim asks her when Ziva slowly gets up from the bed, holding her back with a grimace and making slow, deliberate moves.

"Totalished." she sighs, raising her arms to pull her hair away from her shoulders and hitting herself in the head with the cast, a soft groan coming from her. Tim bites his lip to keep from laughing. This isn't funny, really. He doesn't even want to begin to consider what could have happened to her, if the street hadn't been nearly empty and another car had run her over when she was down, if the guy had crashed into her instead of just crossing her lane, if she had been less experienced and not known when to let go of the bike… He takes the hairband from her hand carefully pulls her hair into a lose ponytail before letting her wrap her arm around his waist and slowly making their way to the reception, where he hands the form to the nurse he almost strangled and she gives them the release papers for Ziva to sign.

"You wanna go to your place or mine?" he asks her, helping her into his car after they stopped at the pharmacy to pick up her painkillers.

"Your place is closer and has a bigger bed." she mumbles, closing her eyes and resting her head against the cool glass of the window pane. He starts the car, grabbing her hand and squeezing it.

"Can you try to stay awake for the drive?" he asks her, and she groans but shifts in her seat to face him, her eyes opening again. "Thanks." he gives her a soft smile. He tries to drive carefully and to avoid all bumps in the road so as not to jar her injured body. By the time they are at his apartment door, he pretty much has to drag her, and Ziva is really fighting not to fall asleep where she's standing. He unlocks the door and helps her in, guiding her to the bedroom, where he finds a new predicament. Her clothes are still somewhat wet and soiled.

"I won't think you're trying to take advantage of me, Tim." Ziva chuckles, moaning at the throbbing pain in her head as he blushes and unzips her pants, helping her out of them. The t-shirt is a different matter, since Ziva can hardly raise her arm to her chest, never mind above her head to get out of it. At her reassurance that it's just an old shirt and she won't be mad, he gets scissors and cuts it open at the back, mindful of her spine. He gets her one of his shirts and buttons it for her, kissing her nose when she lies down and he pulls the covers over her.

"Want your painkillers?" he offers her, but to his surprise, she declines, closing her eyes. "I gotta wake you up in two hours, though." he reminds her, and she mumbles something he can't quite catch. He briefly considers getting into bed behind her and holding her close, but decides against it because of her injuries. Instead, he goes to get a chair and a book, sitting down on the side of the bed she chose. He doesn't start reading, though, but sets his alarm clock and then watches her sleep, reaching out to brush a loose curl of hair from her face.

"Never scare me like this again, ok?" he whispers to her sleeping form. "I wouldn't know what to do if I lost you."

**_fin._**

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